


Nirvana

by avi17



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Alien Biology, I have no excuse for myself honestly, I just love them, M/M, Mild D/S undertones, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, The premise for this is hilariously flimsy, urGoh is the softest dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avi17/pseuds/avi17
Summary: UrGoh meditates.  SkekGra finds ways to distract him.
Relationships: skekGra/urGoh (Dark Crystal)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Nirvana

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldleaf1066](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldleaf1066/gifts).



> I came in here like "I'm so horrified that this fandom has smut, I want nothing to do with this" and now here we are. No regrets honestly.
> 
> Dedicated to gold since it came from a jokey prompt they sent me and then just took on a life of its own.
> 
> Be gentle with me re:anatomy, we're all just guessing here XDD

UrGoh hums while he meditates.

It’s a deep, thrumming sound that seems to fill their entire dwelling despite it’s softness. Soothing, certainly, and much more pleasant than any of the myriad of odd noises skekGra knows he makes while thinking. Through the humdrum tasks of the day, it often fades into the ambient sounds of the desert.

After six hours, not so much.

“Isn’t that enough enlightenment for one day?” he snaps irritably over the pile of herbs he’s tying into bundles to hang and dry.

“...........Hmmm?” UrGoh responds after a too-long pause. At least it stops the humming. SkekGra rolls his eyes.

“You heard me.” UrGoh- _damn him_ \- nods, just barely.

“Maybe you…….could…...use…….”

“Oh really?” SkekGra interrupts, voice dripping with feigned enthusiasm. “What could I use?”

“..........a little…... _more_ ………..enlightenment,” urGoh finishes serenely, eyes still closed.

Tossing most of the herbs aside with wordless groan of annoyance, the Heretic shoves a handful into his pocket and stalks up the ramp to their little sleeping loft. UrGoh is seated atop their meticulously folded blankets- which just irritates him more, for absolutely no reason except that he is incapable of such crisp corners- cross-legged, hands resting gently on his knees. His eyes are resolutely shut, and with his face so relaxed, he looks a hundred trine younger- the deep-carved swirls and lines in his skin smoothed and the pained furrow between his brows that skekGra knows they share slackened. His ridiculous hat is set aside along with his coat and tail cover and his hair is loose and soft, and the part that makes skekGra angriest is how impossible it is to _be_ angry with a creature this beautiful.

UrGoh has made no response whatsoever to the company, even though he must feel and hear his counterpart in front of him, and skekGra rolls his eyes again.

_So, they’re playing this game today, are they?_

Fishing out the handful of herb sprigs, he reaches out and tucks one into urGoh’s hair. It sticks up like the green fur of a Pluff’M, and he snorts. “Care to join me back on Thra?” UrGoh doesn’t answer, though skekGra thinks he sees one corner of his mouth twitch. “Alright then!” he crows, and sets to weaving more of the stems into urGoh’s hair, at first into a little crown, then willy-nilly wherever he can reach. The effect is enough to set him giggling, though urGoh still wears it better than he has any right to. “If you sprout a new crop of these from your ears in a few days, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself!”

And if he happens to brush one of those ears- hidden beneath the curtain of hair and _very_ sensitive- with his claws while he weaves, then surely it was a happy accident. And if he catches a near-imperceptible shiver at the touch- well, then that’s even happier.

UrGoh finally caves and opens his eyes with a deep (but hopefully fond) sigh. “You couldn’t...just…..let me….finish?”

“Absolutely not!” skekGra answers brightly. UrGoh shakes his head as he often does to rouse himself and several sprigs of greenery fall to his lap. He picks one up and the brow furrow returns, this time in confusion.

“What…….have you…..done….to me?”

“Decorated you. You sat here for so long that I mistook you for a piece of furniture.” UrGoh glares- though it isn’t especially intimidating- and skekGra can’t keep the grin from his face for more than a moment. “Don’t worry, the effect is very charming.”

UrGoh shakes harder, like a wet fizzgig, and a shower of herbs dislodge themselves from his mane and end up scattered all over their formerly neat bed. A few still remain, woven in like a little Gelfling girl’s braids, but now skekGra can’t help another burst of irritation at the fact that it really _is_ charming. But urGoh’s posture has visibly relaxed, which means he’s won this round.

“Do you…...have…..a better…….use…….for my time….then?” urGoh asks, one brow raised, an exasperated but playful glint in his eye suggesting that he knows the likely answer.

SkekGra knows an invitation when he hears one. Sitting up on his knees, he leans closer and brushes urGoh’s hair aside to find that ear again and stroke the pad of his thumb along it with a purpose. This time it’s urGoh who rolls his eyes, but he’s close enough to feel the shudder and the sharp exhale before there are arms around his waist and he’s being hauled into urGoh’s lap.

_Yes, he’ll call this one a win. They should start keeping score._

SkekGra barely has time to crow his victory before blunt teeth against his neck turn it to a strangled groan. UrGoh’s slowness and gentleness belie a surprising strength, and he holds his Skeksis half close easily with a single arm, leaving the other three free to roam. Which is hardly fair, really, with two of his own hopelessly withered and strapped out of the way, but now isn’t the time to get self-conscious, especially with one hand snaking its way beneath his robes and ghosting up his thigh.

They’ve picked the worst possible position to divest themselves of any clothing, so for the moment skekGra gives up, instead rocking insistently on urGoh’s lap, feeling the heady warmth build between their bodies and dragging his tongue along the swirling grooves of urGoh’s cheek and jaw. They don’t share pleasure between their bodies- not the way they do pain, which doesn’t seem fair either- but when they’re this close it hardly matters. He can barely tell where he ends and urGoh begins, but in a way they _don’t_ end, the melding of their bodies as natural as that of their souls. It was never like this before they found each other, never _gentle_ , full of reverential touch and warm, easy laughter.

And when he tugs a little too hard at urGoh’s hair, _that_ he _does_ feel, so he does it again, harder, and the shared full-body jolt pulls a groan from urGoh in tandem with his own.

He vaguely registers urGoh shifting beneath him before he’s dumped onto his back and finds himself trapped beneath a looming, smirking Mystic. The curtain of hair around him smells of incense and smoke, and he combs his talons through it, pushing back a bit that has fallen into urGoh’s eyes. A leaf drifts down from urGoh’s head to alight on the end of skekGra’s beak, and he blows an annoyed puff of air in an attempt to dislodge it. It remains resolutely in place, and he feels the deep vibration of urGoh’s chuckle.

“You….did this….to yourself.”

That is certainly true, but he offers back a mock-glare rather than any humility. “Next time don’t make me resort to such _drastic_ measures to get your attention.” He takes advantage of their position to tug at the hem of urGoh’s untucked shirt, until the Mystic finally caves and pulls it over his head to toss onto the pile. “Who knows what I might do?”

UrGoh quirks an unimpressed brow at him, but magnanimously bends down to drag his teeth over a sensitive spot on the side of skekGra’s neck- _damn him, he knows because they’re the same there too_ \- that makes him let out an embarrassingly high-pitched whine. SkekGra retaliates by grabbing a fistful of hair in one hand and cupping one of urGoh’s breasts with the other, playfully pinching a dusky nipple. It earns him a pleased little grunt, and he immediately wants more of that voice, but urGoh is frowning. “I…..might have…...received more guidance…….to restoring…….the balance…..of Thra.”

SkekGra rolls his eyes. “You can receive that tomorrow.”

UrGoh blinks, eyes briefly unreadable, then wraps those long fingers around both of skekGra’s wrists and presses them to the pillow above his head. He only holds them for a moment, just long enough for skekGra to feel the first throb of wet heat make itself known between his legs at the thought of just how easily urGoh _could_ pin him, before he lifts his hand away, testing to see if skekGra’s will follow.

“Leave…..them…...there.”

 _Make me_ , he nearly retorts, but instead he just nods, eyes wide. _How low the Conqueror has fallen,_ the others would say, _to put himself at the mercy of one of these pitiful, plodding creatures- their weaker, discarded halves_. But there is joy to be found in surrender when its rewards are so sweet, and urGoh is the only creature on Thra that he has ever been _eager_ to obey.

So he leaves them, and the corners of urGoh’s eyes crinkle in a smile.

The desert suns outside are sinking for the night, casting their den into shades of burnt orange and blue and shadowing the enticing- and now off-limits- curves of urGoh’s body. UrGoh drags two of his hands down skekGra’s chest with excruciating slowness, dipping between every rib through the fabric, tracing his breasts too gently to offer anything more than teasing. The pad of a third thumb idly strokes the tender inside of one of his knees- the fourth, who knows, he's lost track. He arches and strains, already having to consciously remember not to move his hands. The nights here quickly grow cold, but right now he’s stifling, crawling out of his skin with want and restlessness, still cocooned in too many layers of robes. He shifts uncomfortably.

“Can I at least take these off?”

“...No.”

He lets out a growl of frustration, but urGoh ignores it with maddening serenity. Instead, he grasps skekGra’s thighs gently to push them up and apart, and peels his robes back just enough to reveal the slit that is just beginning to open and glisten with moisture. SkekGra digs his talons into the pillow to keep from moving. He trusts urGoh completely, but still feels oddly exposed with the rest of him still covered- especially with urGoh’s eyes trained downward and dark with hunger.

And yet, for a long moment, he does nothing. Only urGoh is capable of such weaponized self-restraint, and it makes skekGra want to scream but also want him even more. He settles for more squirming, trying to draw urGoh’s touch where he wants it. The hands around his thighs tighten, thumbs digging to hold him still, but the free hand that reaches for him only teases again, dragging callused finger-pads tantalizingly up and down along the edges of his vent until the twin shafts bloom forth, slick and flushed dark. He tips his head back with a relieved groan, feeling the room spin pleasantly and sinking heavily into the pillows.

“That’s…...right…..” urGoh murmurs, leaning down to nudge his nose affectionately against skekGra’s knee. It’s sweet, but sweet is for later, right now he just needs _more_. _Something._ But on that front he gets nothing- just a single, wicked finger, tracing contours and shapes, dipping occasionally into the growing wetness only to spread it in shimmering, shivering trails across his abdomen rather than remaining where he wants it.

“ _UrGoh_ …” he nearly whines, arching into the ghosting touch and growling in frustration when it lifts away again entirely. He knows he’s done something to deserve this- _right?_ \- but it is only the few leaves still tangled in urGoh’s hair that remind him what. All of his conscious thought is trained on the wandering of urGoh’s hand, excruciatingly slow even for him, one knuckle now dragging down the underside of one shaft. He absolutely will _not_ beg for it, he tells himself, and even then he knows it’s a lie but he plans to cling to what little pride he has left for as long as he can. For now, he snaps, “Will you get on with it already?!”

All that earns him is another frown, and yet another complete absence of touch. UrGoh looks for all the world like he could still be meditating, like this isn’t affecting him one bit, except that the deep purple tinge of his cheeks gives him away. He can be tempted, then, so skekGra tries, arching his back and letting his legs fall open wider in invitation. His efforts are met with a raised, unimpressed brow. “No,” urGoh says again, fingers hovering just maddeningly out of reach. “I am….giving you….a lesson….in-”

“-In _what_ ?” skekGra bursts out in utter exasperation, too aroused and annoyed to have the sense to keep his mouth shut. “Sheer frustration? _Humility?_ Because I think I’ve already-” A hand clamping his beak shut puts an end to that, and urGoh finishes his thought with a knowing look.

“....Patience.”

The Heretic lets out a wordless, muffled yell, wrenching his beak out of urGoh’s hand and moving his hands from their position above his head to sit up on his elbows. “I don’t _have_ to just let you torture me, you know. I could just get up and go back to what I was doing.”

“So….could I,” urGoh replies evenly. The air between them is thick with tension as they toe the line between teasing and genuine argument. It's a game they know well after hundreds of trine, but the look the Mystic gives his counterpart renders the threat utterly impotent. They’re in entirely too deep now, and stopping would be _far_ worse torture.

Suitably chastened, skekGra lays his hands back above his head in a show of submission, and is rewarded by the tormenting finger finally pushing inside him in earnest. He keens in exultation and just barely catches urGoh's fond chuckle, and with that all the tension is gone and they’re back to their easy, loving rhythm. He’s impossibly wet, urGoh’s finger sliding as far in as it can go like it’s nothing- and it _is_ nothing at the same time that it’s _everything_ but he still, still needs _more_. He wants to claw into urGoh’s flesh until they both feel it, drag him close enough to touch every inch of him, but he refuses to fail that particular challenge again- he makes do instead with twining the ends of their tails together.

UrGoh smiles at that, but his eyes are sharp and focused, one hand moving steadily and another thumbing the sensitive head of one shaft until skekGra hisses and trembles. “Are you….going…….to be…...good….then?”

 _Fuckfuckfuck-_ “ **_Yes_ ** _._ ” The word- gasped pitifully- spills out without his even meaning it to. It’s the low-hanging fruit, it’s not fair, but he can’t help how that one stupid word affects him. He has done incalculable harm in his life, and even though he has left it all behind him, at times he can still feel it ingrained into every particle of his being. He struggles to believe himself worthy of any of this care and devotion and love, and no one but urGoh has ever called him _good_ \- least of all himself.

In that moment, he wants nothing more than to live up to it- except maybe to hear it again.

UrGoh knows. Of course he knows. He teases skekGra’s dripping slit with a second finger, the first still buried deep, but even when skekGra bucks his hips insistently, he hesitates. SkekGra knows what he will say before he speaks. “Ask….. _nicely_ ….”

Any promises he made to himself mere minutes ago are out the window.

“ _Please_ ,” he whimpers, talons digging into the pillows, robes twisted awkwardly and soaked with sweat, the heat only adding to the spinning of the room. “ _Please, I’ll be good, I just need-_ ” he cuts off with a strangled moan as the second finger stretches him open and they both press in deep, practiced strokes against the spot that makes skekGra’s body shudder and toes curl and words abandon him. He can do little more than nod frantically and thump his tail against the blankets and pray for him to go _faster._

The slow build is utterly overwhelming, and he wishes- not for the first time- that they did share sensations beyond just pain. He wants urGoh to feel firsthand how completely he lights his other half aflame and takes him apart, wants him to feel the sheer ferocity of his need in this moment. UrGoh must at least feel the growing ache of his secondary arms pinned awkwardly beneath him, but there’s nothing to be done about that, he’d rather die than stop to shift around. The pace is steady now, good but still not _enough_ , and he grits his teeth in frustration- _he said he would be good, he wants_ **_so badly_ ** _to be good-_

The pleading in his eyes is all he can muster this time, but urGoh takes pity and pulls his hand back, only to return with all three fingers- _fuck_ , **_finally_ ** \- pressed so deep that skekGra can feel the burning stretch around the Mystic’s knuckles. He throws his head back and nearly cries in relief, accidentally tearing a chunk from the pillow clutched in his claws. It’s hard and wet and so close to perfect but he needs his _hands_ , and he forces his hoarse voice to work.

“C-can I-”

UrGoh shakes his head, but then it doesn’t matter because he’s there himself, wrapping a free hand around the Skeksis’ neglected shafts while the first is still buried inside him, the other two clasped tightly around trembling thighs to hold him still. It builds for one more glorious, desperate moment, every muscle taut, eyes rolled back, babbling nonsense- _that’s it, so good, I love you I loveyouI_ **_lovey_ ** _-_ before he falls over the precipice, feeling rather than hearing his own shriek as everything goes a burning, blissful white.

He’s still twitching and blinking spots from his vision when he feels urGoh haul him upright, finally pulling the stifling, sweat-damp robes over his head. He only has a moment to shiver at the rush of cold night air before he’s wrapped in a tangle of arms, clinging weakly in return, chin resting on urGoh’s shoulder. For a long moment, he lets himself float, eyes closed and weightless, inhaling the incense scent of urGoh’s hair- but then groans softly as urGoh presses his thumbs gently into his sore secondary arms. The mangled, atrophied limbs can only handle a light touch, but urGoh is well-practiced, massaging just firmly enough to alleviate the new pain without exacerbating the normal.

He can hear the concern in the Wanderer’s voice without opening his eyes. “We should...wrap these….better.” He offers a noncommittal grunt in return.

“Later.” A pause to nuzzle into that soft mane. “That was perfect. You’re perfect”

UrGoh’s chuckle vibrates his entire body. “I’ll...remember…...that.” SkekGra snorts.

“Don’t get _too_ used to it.” It’s nonsense, he says it all the time, but urGoh wisely doesn’t bother to point that out.

SkekGra lets himself drift a bit longer, playing idly with urGoh’s mane as he slowly comes down and regains the ability to steadily breathe. He hears clattering, then bubbling, and laughs at the familiar, heavy-sweet smell of pipe smoke. “Can’t go five minutes…” he murmurs, even though really it’s been all day, and urGoh’s other hands are still working the kinks out of his useless arms so he can hardly call himself neglected. Really, he’s far luckier than he deserves.

After a moment, he allows his own hands to wander curiously. One traces the deep, swirling grooves over the Mystic’s collarbone and down his chest, riding the rise and fall of his ribs as he exhales a steady stream of smoke. The other sneaks lower to where the bottom part of him is annoyingly still clothed, finding a wet patch of the soft fabric and hardness beneath. He presses in just to hear urGoh’s breath hitch. _Not so unaffected after all, then._ He pulls back enough to finally look at his partner’s face, fondly taking in the dusky flush of his cheeks and the heavy-lidded eyes as he fiddles with the laces of his pants.

“Can I?” 

UrGoh nods, leaning in for a last nuzzle before leaning back against the cushions. “ _Please._ ” 

He’s always said it so easily.

Even with that request fresh in his ears, skekGra takes his time- he may not have urGoh’s impossible damnable _patience_ , but with his own completion already found he at least has enough to tease a bit. Every inch of exposed skin is endlessly fascinating, even after nearly two hundred trine, and all the moreso for how much it steadily changes. His stomach is softer than it once was, the patterns of wrinkles growing deeper even as the scars left over from skekGra’s foolish days slowly fade. He balks at the commensurate signs of aging in himself, unable to see them as anything beyond evidence of their inevitable march toward mortality, but it’s impossible to hate them on urGoh when they only seem to make him more appealing.

He tastes it all, descending slowly and relishing every shudder, before wincing when he accidentally digs a talon in hard enough to feel it himself and draw a tiny pinprick of blood. Skeksis are all sharp points and edges- they are not made for tenderness like this, though the Heretic does his best. Murmuring an apology, he licks the wound clean, but urGoh only exhales another stream of smoke and lets out a rumbling chuckle. One hand comes to rest gently on the back of skekGra’s neck- a reassurance that it’s fine, _they’re_ fine- so he dips lower still.

It takes a moment of wrestling to finally pull the Mystic’s confounded pants off and toss them into the pile, but the reward is well worth it. He props himself up on his elbows and wraps a hand around both shafts- a mirror of his own, but thicker and heavier, not unlike urGoh himself. A flick of the tongue across the heads earns him a delicious twitch and the clatter of urGoh’s pipe dropping back onto its shelf.

_If they’re keeping score, he definitely considers that a point._

He pulls back then, resting his cheek against urGoh’s thigh and studying his face as he drags his fist slowly up and down, spreading the leaking moisture and mapping the grooves that are found even there. UrGoh is a vision- mouth slack, eyes closed- and for a creature so accustomed to having so many arms, he seems to not quite know what to do with them- two are clenched in the sheets, the third roving restlessly over his own abdomen, the fourth still gently cupping the back of skekGra’s head. SkekGra nips the tender flesh within easy reach and drinks in urGoh’s low answering moan like water.

“I love you,” he says again, for no real reason except that he wants to.

“You’re perfect,” urGoh murmurs back with skekGra’s own words, and he can’t really _believe_ that but hearing it still makes him nearly sob.

Reluctantly breaking eye contact, skekGra dives down below where his hand is still working to dip his tongue into the glorious slick heat of urGoh’s vent, lapping as deep as he can while still mindful of his teeth. There’s no more banter or teasing or hesitation, just silent worship the only way skekGra knows, and the rising volume of urGoh’s rapturous cries. There are words somewhere within them- _good, love,_ **_wonderful_ **\- but they blur into beautiful white noise as skekGra matches the rhythm of his hand and mouth with urGoh’s straining hips and focuses all of his effort into bringing his other half over the edge.

As it turns out, urGoh also hums while he shivers apart on skekGra’s tongue- and he finds that an infinitely sweeter tune.

The Heretic manages only enough energy to dig for a scrap of cloth and wipe them both clean before collapsing with his head pillowed on urGoh’s stomach. They remain like that, breathing together like a single being, urGoh running fingers through the remaining wispy hair on the back of skekGra's neck. At moments like this, the Heretic wonders secretly if rejoining will really make them happy. Will it be worth it to fill that void within them both if it means they lose this? Is this not already wholeness, in a way?

It’s a question he’s asked himself a hundred times, but certainly far too heavy for a moment of such blissful comfort, so he puts it aside yet again.

Instead, he glances around at the pile of clothing, crushed leaves, rumpled blankets, the torn-open pillow with its stuffing spilling out. They’ll need to replace that- somehow, as neither of them have ever made a cushion before- but there’s an odd sense of victory in having entirely destroyed their immaculately made bed. _Another point_ , though it doesn’t matter a bit whether he wins or loses as long as they keep playing together.

The suns are long-set now, the chill air hazy from urGoh’s now-extinguished pipe. Shivering, skekGra pulls a blanket up to cocoon them both, well aware that they’re unlikely to budge from this spot. There’s a single little green leaf still poking out from urGoh’s hair- the sole survivor of the night’s activities- but he lets it be. Suddenly drowsy, he scoots up a bit to tuck his head beneath urGoh’s chin.  
  
“We should…” a yawn- _that snuck up on him quickly_ , “...walk to the trading outpost tomorrow. I want to see if they have more of that blue dye for the backdrops. ...And maybe another pillow.”

UrGoh responds with a noncommittal grunt, already dozing. SkekGra nudges him with his beak. “Is that a yes?"

Though his eyes are closed, he feels urGoh’s slow nod. “After I….”

“After you what?”  
  
“.............Finish my meditation.”

SkekGra’s groan of exasperation is muffled into urGoh’s hair.  
  
Yes, they'll do it all again tomorrow. He wouldn't have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, don't @ me honestly XDDD I just love these old gay aliens a lot. Comments fuel me so if you want more nonsense like this then let me know what you thought!


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